


Show Me How Much You Like It

by Snowgrouse



Category: Actor RPF, Basil Rathbone - Fandom, British Actor RPF, Conrad Veidt - Fandom, Conrad Veidt/Basil Rathbone, German Actor RPF - Fandom, Old Hollywood RPF, Veidtbone
Genre: Anal Sex, Ass tasting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Homosexual Anal Sex, M/M, Missionary Position, Multiple Sex Positions, PWP, Quickie, RPF, RPS - Freeform, Sideways position, Unabashedly Bisexual Veidt, Unpolished, Veidtbone - Freeform, doggystyle, instafic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 14:52:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10721523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowgrouse/pseuds/Snowgrouse
Summary: Now, Connie leans onto his right side a little, moving Baz's legs, guiding him into a sideways position, face to face. "How does that feel?" he asks.Baz is not sure if he can come like this, but he's not sure if that's even Connie's intent; however, when he decides to wrap his right leg around Connie's waist, somethinghappensinside of his hips and his eyes roll back in his head. He freezes, shuddering; Connie decides to try for a slow thrust, and now all Baz can see is white, all the hair on his body standing on end."That'sverygood," Connie drawls, and just keeps going, calm and easy and slow and sweet, even if Baz is going to utterpiecesaround him. Now, Connie can deliver only the shortest of thrusts; yet the tightness, the heaviness, the pressure against Baz's prostate isincredible.Baz can only hang on for dear life, his mouth gaping open wide; all of him is open wide, open, open for Connie to fill again and again and he loves this ridiculous gangly German bastard and he wants to weep.





	Show Me How Much You Like It

**Author's Note:**

> Another quick and dirty Veidtbone instafic, proofread for typos but nowhere near as polished or as fancy as my "proper" fics. But there was hotness and some nice imagery herein, so it would've been a waste not to post it. So, here you go!

"Show me," Connie pants as he takes Baz from behind, "show me how much you like it," he says, leaning over Baz and nuzzling his ear; now, Baz can hear the grin on his face. "Fuck me, Baz," Connie says, so soft and so hard and so sharp at the same time, that way he has of making of his voice a silken whip; "Come," he says, with that audacious way of his, as if beckoning to a pet; "fuck me back," and now he pulls back, drawing his hands across Baz's heaving sides as he does, remaining absolutely still. 

And Baz hates it and he loves it, being made to do this. But of course, Connie, of all people, would make a point of it: of pushing Baz into showing him the truth, of pushing Baz into being honest to _himself_ about his own desire, no half-heartedness or denial about it. Connie wants him to prove it, prove that he truly enjoys this: a cock up his arse, being taken by a man, being _fucked_ by a man. 

And it is half from spite that Baz now groans, and begins to beat down on Connie aggressively with his hips: he arches his back, the pleasure this angle brings and the thrill of his own (faggot, faggot) whorishness making his skin shiver up with gooseflesh. He moans so loudly he hurts his own head, throwing himself down on Connie's cock, taking his pleasure from it; he tries to grab for his own cock, but it's difficult to do so without losing his balance. 

And it is then that Connie wraps his hand around Baz's cock, a little too loosely--oh, again Baz can feel him smirking, as Connie is most definitely doing this on purpose, he has to be: holding him too softly just so that Baz will thrust into his hand all the harder. 

"Stop playing games!" Baz hisses through his teeth, still fucking Connie back; "Stop--"

But now, Connie pulls back and thrusts in, _hard,_ so vigorously Baz loses his balance, and now Baz's face is in the pillow and he's whimpering. And then, those whimpers turn into just ululations, so fantastic does it feel to be _fucked,_ God, Connie is _such_ a good fuck; the way he keeps his strokes long, the way he _rolls_ into Baz when he's deep inside, deep. 

The few men Baz's had take him haven't given a toss about finesse, but Connie's movements speak of a need to pleasure, the way a womaniser does with his ladies to make them his slaves; and as Baz claws at the sheets, his fingers burning from the thick cotton, he finds he does not care if he is made a slave to a pleasure as magnificent as this. Each slide of Connie's cock past his prostate is a white-blue electric jolt through his entire body; each time the head of Connie's cock presses into it upon the upward thrust makes him drip over Connie's knuckles.

"God, your arse," Connie hisses behind him; his voice so rough from heat Baz can hear the "arsch" in there. Connie grabs it with his free hand, kneads it, spreads it, tracing the rim of his anus with his thumb; the smacking sound he now makes with his mouth--oh, God, he's _tasting_ it, tasting the joining of their bodies. That catlike mewl, of a perversion fulfilled, that judder, that staggering break in Connie's rhythm; now, Connie changes hands and tastes the wetness from Baz's cock, too, lapping at his hand like an animal.

"You're disgusting," Baz half-laughs, but oh, his mouth waters, oh, his cock pulses in Connie's hand; oh, his arse squeezes around Connie's length in need. 

"That's right," Connie lisps, and then Baz is on his back, his legs are spread wide, and he is being kissed deep, deep; Connie's tongue is sliding against his. Gliding, thrusting, fucking Baz's own taste onto his palate, Connie takes his mouth with the sinuous dance of his tongue just as he now takes his hips with the sinuous dance of his body.

And now that Baz's hands are free, he just grabs Connie's head and deepens the kiss, fucking his mouth back with a renewed fervour, clutching his back with his legs, beating him once, twice with his ankles and throwing up his hips. All signals that he wishes to come, wishes to be undone, wishes for Connie to do the same inside of him, inside of him. "Come on;" he growls, the tendons of his neck straining, his cock so hard it hasn't been this big, this rock-hard in _years;_ even the heat of Connie's belly and the brush of the sparse hair beneath his navel so pleasurable against the sensitised skin of Baz's cock that it's maddening. And the way Connie fills him so deeply, now, to the point of nausea, throwing himself into Baz so hard Baz's entire body is lifted from the mattress with each one of his thrusts, all the veins on Connie's temples fit to burst; Connie's eyes as pale and as dizzying as the midday sky.

In fact, Baz is a little concerned, now, as Connie is straining so much his entire face swells, red; his lips sputter, his nostrils rippling. And there, a new slickness inside of Baz as Connie draws back, a lack of rhythm in his now-random thrusts; a terrifying, strange, dying animal's howl from Connie's now-open mouth. Connie collapses on top of him like a man shot, yet his hips still lift, still keep on beating. Even now, he is thinking of prolonging the pleasure, ensuring Baz's, it seems, as Baz realises Connie is forcing himself past this orgasm, lifting himself out of the clutches of the ejaculatory fatigue that always drags a man down with its merciless hands; Connie seems to be resisting it to the last of his strength.

Not for a man of Connie's libido, such mortal obstacles: his head now buried in the crook of Baz's neck, he but keeps on moving his hips even if the rest of his body is almost completely still. Baz, a little self-conscious, thinks of saying something akin to "You don't have to," but also knows Connie would glare at him for that; therefore, he takes what he is given and squeezes around Connie's cock with his arse, murmuring in delight.

"You're _good,_ " he drawls into Connie's ear, as much as a man can drawl with another man crushing the air from his lungs and with a cock pushing up his innards from the other end. 

"Mmm," Connie just says, blowing a stray strand of hair from his face; then, when it won't blow away from the weight of all the cream it's been laden with, Connie thinks better of it and combs it back onto his scalp with his fingers, plastering it there. "You're not so bad yourself," he says, knowing it for a cliché, but the delight he takes in being able to master the English phrase makes even clichés sound wonderful and new when he utters them, Baz thinks.

And Connie grins, knowing exactly how charming people find this. But now, he leans onto his right side a little, moving Baz's legs, guiding him into a sideways position, face to face. "How does that feel?" he asks.

Baz is not sure if he can come like this, but he's not sure if that's even Connie's intent; however, when he decides to wrap his right leg around Connie's waist, something _happens_ inside of his hips and his eyes roll back in his head. He freezes, shuddering; Connie decides to try for a slow thrust, and now all Baz can see is white, all the hair on his body standing on end.

"That's _very_ good," Connie drawls, and just keeps going, calm and easy and slow and sweet, even if Baz is going to utter _pieces_ around him. Now, Connie can deliver only the shortest of thrusts; yet the tightness, the heaviness, the pressure against Baz's prostate is _incredible._ Baz can only hang on for dear life, his mouth gaping open wide; all of him is open wide, open, open for Connie to fill again and again and he loves this ridiculous gangly German bastard and he wants to weep. But all he can do is sob, sob quietly, dryly; he hates for this to end, but he cannot keep going without having a heart attack, so overwhelming it all is, all his senses blending together now and he hears sensations like music. Music, Connie's thrusts a raucous symphony of crash and cacophony, Baz's pleasure swirling wild like a Hungarian gypsy dance; his hand moving to his cock a terrible dissonance but he must seek its crescendo, its finale, he must. 

"Baz--"

But he can't hear Connie over the din of his pleasure, its whirling dervish trill; in cascades, he ripples and falls and crashes like cymbals, flutters a harp's strings being strummed; spilling into his hand, onto Connie's belly, three great and rising notes struck out of his body, heavy and long and profoundly satisfying and sweet. His own noises are the only discordant ones, nasal whimpers that now emerge from underneath the red and black and white sea of his release; still, Connie moves inside of him a little, the softest little white notes in the darkness of his body, like a distant flute in the night.

But Baz's musical revelrie is interrupted by Connie now pulling him to lie down on top of himself; somehow they manage it without Connie slipping out of him, and even if Baz is already sore, he feels that if Connie would withdraw now, he could not bear it; he would fall apart. So he guides Connie deeper, guides himself down on him deeper, making sure Connie will not slip out as Baz straddles his hips.

Only then can he rest on top of Connie, not in a hurry anywhere: the same seems to be true of Connie, the way he allows Baz this.

"That was amazing," Baz mumbles, his face pressed into Connie's sweat-damp hair.

 _"Was?"_ Connie chuckles. "I have only made it halfway, I'll have you know," he says and dances his fingertips onto Baz's buttocks, then gives said buttocks a hearty grope.

"Mm," Baz says and squeezes Connie's cock with his arse, relishing Connie's gasp. "What time is it?"

In one, exaggerated but determined gesture, Connie knocks his alarm clock off the table. "I forget," he says mock-apologetically. 

Baz looks from the bedside table to Connie, who is now smirking like a devil. Ah, well, Baz shrugs in his mind. "Whatever it is," he says and lifts himself into a riding position, squeezing Connie and rolling his hips until Connie _really_ wakes up, his eyes widening, " _I_ am going to fuck _you_ after."

Connie sighs in exaggerated delight and lets his arms flop wide. "Have your wicked way with me," he simpers and flutters those outrageous eyelashes of his.

And before Connie can say anything more ridiculous--Baz's face is starting to get sore from all this smiling--Baz begins to truly ride him, taking his mouth with a kiss.


End file.
